


No names.

by Sonicmeriver (Lakela)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakela/pseuds/Sonicmeriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if that time in The Library was not the first time River met Donna?</p><p>"No names."</p><p>It's her idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No names.

When I’m finally free to leave Stormcage I realise I have nowhere to go. I still look forward to adventures with the Doctor, as I have all my life. But those keep getting scarcer and only twice, since _that_ kiss after defeating the Silence, his first kiss, what I thought might be my last, have I met with a Doctor who actually _knows_ me (in the only interesting sense of the word, really). We travel roughly in reverse order, and even though _my_ Doctor does show up on the rare occasion, I don’t know how many times I will see him again. It could be none for all I know, and in the meantime, the Doctor as I keep meeting him, knows me less and less each time.

I become a Professor at university; the Doctor gave me the idea. Or the spoiler, depending on whose timeline you consider. Time travel is confusing like that.

I also visit Amy and Rory quite frequently, when they’re not away themselves travelling with the Doctor. It’s in the 21st century where I meet Her.

When it happens, I’m a little drunk and a bit cross. Well, really cross and probably just as drunk.

It’s his fault, of course, it always is. That bloody impossible man. He doesn’t trust me. Then again, why would he? But must he be so, so... bloody stubborn about it, as well? Not only is there no more snogging, I now have to reason twice as long to get him to listen, it almost got us both killed this time.

Well, if my nights are my own once again... Watch it boys, River Song is back.

It’s while flirting with the bartender (or is it bartenders in plural?) that She walks in.

“Oi! Hands off!”

Some client’s hands have landed on Her breasts, and quite frankly, I can’t say I blame him. The woman’s breasts look like the place you’d want your hands landing on.

I order another glass of my favourite white and offer it to the redhead when she turns around to order.

The woman starts to protest but I interrupt with my best smile.

“Try it, it won’t disappoint.”

And perhaps intrigued, the woman does.

At the end of the night we’ve gone through all of my favourites and a few more of hers. Her laugh is contagious and there’s something about her... I can’t quite put my finger on. She’s not my usual type. Not that I’m very particular, but she doesn’t use five-syllable words, she’s not in a position of power, and she doesn’t wear a uniform as far I can tell. She’s not even your typically beautiful woman. Still, there is something about her that draws me in and I can’t seem to stop watching her, her eyes, her mouth; the bartenders long forgotten.  

That night we end up checking into a hotel room.

“No names.”

It’s her idea.

“I’m married,” she says as I start taking her coat off. “I’ve never... I’ve never done this with a woman,” she adds, suddenly sober.

“Shh,” I silence her lips with my own and don’t say it’s been decades for me, since I last kissed a woman. “No names,” I agree. “Just us, my love.”

She deepens the kiss and I take this as my cue to start unzipping her dress needing to feel her skin. To my own surprise, my fingers start shaking slightly as the zipper comes down her back. It really has been that long.

I take my time memorizing her body. Planting wet kisses on her skin; her neck, her breasts... Goodness, those breasts! She looks down at me and I smile at her reassuringly, hoping this will wipe the worry that still lingers in her eyes. She smiles back.

“Like what you see?” she asks cheekily.

“Hmm-mm,” I nod taking a nipple into my mouth and sucking on it. She groans jerking her head back and the sound goes straight to my groin.

I come back up, my mouth leaving a trail of red spots on her body. We both know those will leave a mark but she doesn’t protest. Our mouths find each other, finally, hungry, thirsty. Our breathing one.

“I love my husband,” she says hoarsely, hardly breaking apart. And I know there’s something missing.

“I love mine, too,” I answer back. But I know she can tell there’s something missing.

We don’t say another word for hours.

In the morning, she’s still asleep when I leave.

* * *

“She’ll have the white.”

“Well excuse me if I want to... Oh.”

She turns around and recognises me standing behind her. It takes her a couple of beats to react but when she does, her hand comes flying to land forcefully on my cheek.

Ouch. Well, that was rather unexpected. Truth be told, I’m usually the one doing the slapping.

“What?” is all I manage to say.

“About bloody time,” she barks. “It’s been six months!”

Yes, I reckon it must have. It’s been roughly six months for me as well, even if most of it was spent in the 51st century. Six months since our encounter. And just how did this warrant such greeting, exactly?

“Did I miss the part where I said I would call and then didn’t?” I ask. The tone I’m aiming for is ‘innocent’.

“No,” she practically spits back at me.

“Ok. May I ask what has brought this upon?”

“What did you DO to me?”

“What?” I feel like I’m repeating myself but I can’t think of a better way to summarise my feelings.

“That night in the hotel! The night we flippin’ DID IT!! What did you...” she starts again. The woman is gorgeous but also very loud. A couple of tables are looking in our direction and as much as I love an audience, sometimes it’s simply just not the right time. So I take the shouting ginger by the arm and whisper for her to follow.

“I’m not going anywhere with...” she begins to protest, “God! You’re freakishly strong.”

“That I am,” I agree, a little smugly. “So you better come quietly.”

She glares at me but otherwise obeys and soon we’re out of the pub, turning the dark streets of Soho until I find a suitably empty one.

 “Ok,” I say. “Now, from the beg...”

I can’t finish my sentence as a force pins me against the wall and her mouth latches unto mine. A tongue desperately pushes through my lips, which admittedly don’t offer much resistance. Our tongues dance and I feel her body pressing against mine. My hands, instinctively, reach for her face and pull her closer.

That’s more like it, I think distantly as oxygen stops reaching my brain and a familiar sensation starts building further south. That’s why I had come back in the first place.

Eventually, we both have to break for air. She stares at me panting heavily, and I’m not doing a much better job of keeping it cool. Her eyes are on fire and I know the conversation is far from over.

“When you...” she begins again, her breathing still erratic. “Ever since you... I’ve had these nightmares. These headaches. I can’t sleep. It’s like they’ve invaded my head. Strange creatures and wonderful places. And all these things I don’t understand. And my head...”

“Well sweetie, I don’t see how I could have...”

“And you!” she says accusatorily. “You’re always there. You’re there with the monsters and there with the wonderful creatures. I never remember the details when I wake up. Only you and that skinny bloke.”

“What bloke?” I ask, caught off guard. Isn’t it obvious, what bloke? Yet how can it be? Why would the Doctor be in this woman’s dreams?

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before. But it’s you and it’s him. It’s you and him. You’re one and the same.”

“The Doctor and I?”

“What doctor?” she asks confused.

“I mean the man. We’re the same person in your dreams?”

“Yeah! And I’ve been coming to the pub ever since hoping that you’d show up, except you haven’t. And it’s been six bleeding months! So. What. Did. You. DO TO ME??”

Her lips thin as she glares at me, furiously holding back the tears that are threatening to come down.

“Well...” I begin tentatively, wishing I had a better answer to give. Even a false one would do. “I didn't do anything, as far as I know... But I suspect someone else must have and they must have had good reason.”

“AND WHAT REASON COULD ANYONE HAVE...”

“HOWEVER,” I cut before she can embark on another rant, “I might just be able to help.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

She studies me for a moment before she asks again, “how?”

“I can help you forget. Get rid of the dreams. Forget us both. Me and the man.”

“Right,” she says, not convinced at all, “how?”

“I just can. If you trust me, I can make it all go away.”

“But HOW? Who ARE you anyway? Are you a  _witch_ or something?! A flippin’ bloody witch? Did I sleep with a WITCH?!”

“No!” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders to get her to look at me.  “All that shouting! That can’t be good for the headaches. It certainly isn't doing anything for mine. I... I can help, that’s all.” I add, letting her go. “I promise I didn’t have anything to do with what’s happened to you, but I can help. Don’t you want the nightmares to go away?”

“Yes.”

“What I'm going to do, is like meditation. You've heard of meditation right?"

"Yeah," she says, clearly offended.

"This is like meditation, applied on someone else.”

“What?”

“Look, I can help, but you've gotta trust me. I thought that’s why you were looking for me.”

“Well, yes...”

“Good.  Good. Then close your eyes, love.”

“What here? Now?

“No need to delay, is there?” I take a step forward and she takes three back.

“Woah! Just hold on a moment, Goldenlocks! What _exactly_ are you gonna do to me?”

“Goldenlocks? I don’t think I qualify as a...”

“Oi! Back on topic!”

“I’m hardly going to touch you. You won’t feel a thing, I promise.”

“So you just, do your thing and I never see or dream of you again.”

“That’s right. Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I promise it will be over in a minute.”

She closes her eyes hesitantly and I bring my fingers to the woman’s temples. I’ve never done this before, but I know what needs to be done.

“Wait.” Her eyes open again. “No,” she says. “That’s not what I want.”

She pushes me against the wall again and captures my lips with her teeth. “That’s not what I want at all.”

* * *

“I knew you’d come back,” she whispers into my ear and her breath sends shivers down my spine. “Are we having white?”

“We can’t do this, you know,” I say, without turning around to look at her.

“But why? I don’t understand.”

“I told you. Something was done to you... the nightmares, the headaches, it’s killing you.” I take a deep breath and turn around to face her. She looks more beautiful than ever, her ginger locks falling freely over her bared shoulders. “That why I’ve come back. They have to stop.”

She pales and takes a step back defensively. “No. That’s not why you’re back.”

“Oh, sweetie. There’s no other option.”

“I don’t want to forget. Don't you understand? I don’t want to stop having those dreams. I don’t want to forget YOU!”

“Me? You don’t know anything about me,” I try to force out a mocking laugh but she doesn’t falter.

“I know,” she says, her lips curving slightly into a humourless smile.

“Aren’t you listening? They’re killing you.”

“You said. You explained. That night triggered something in my brain and the nightmares are killing me. Yet, I’m not dead, am I?” She takes a step towards me and her mouth hovers above mine. “Let me show you how not dead I am.”

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be?”

“We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Her hot breath sends shivers down my spine. Her mouth is so close...

“The nightmares.”

“It’s my choice.”

“They’re killing you.”

“That’s not why you came back, tell me this isn't why you came back,” she insists.

“You’re impossible,” I curse quietly.

She nods, and I can feel her smile even if I’m too close to see it. “Aren’t I just?”

“Who are you?” I say.

“Who are you?” she replies.

Her hand lands softly at the curve of my waist and starts coming up. I stop her. “No,” I tell her, “don’t. I can’t”

“Just one night,” she begs. “Please,” she adds pressing her lips to mine. “Please,” she repeats as her mouth takes my lower lip as prisoner. “Please,” she says sucking on it as if the world were coming to an end. “Please,” and her hand is bringing our bodies together. Her breasts pressing against mine between the fabrics of our clothes.  “Please.”

And all I can say, as the word escapes from my mouth, is...

“Yes.”

But it could never be just one night.

* * *

 “You have HANDCUFFS?!” She shrieks.

“So it would seem.”

“Where did you even _get_ handcuffs?”

“A girl must have her secrets.”

“Ha! ‘Secrets’ in your case doesn’t even begin to cover it, Sweetlips.  You could be from another planet, for all I know. In fact, the hair suggests that you are.”

“Hmm... Possibly. Not a single thing, then, eh?”

“Well, perhaps a thing or two. I know you taste delicious.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sunshine. And you can start taking these off of me right this minute, because I won’t be having no such... oi! oh... oooh... yes do. Do do that. A bit lower... oh my god. Your tongue...”

“You like that?”

“So it would seem.”

“Oh, shut up, ginger.”

“Make me.”

* * *

“Stay one more night.”

“You know I can’t, my love.”

“But why?”

“You’re married.” I smile. She doesn't.

“So are you.”

“Exactly.”

“When I’m with you the nightmares aren’t so bad. Stay. Please.”

“That’s not true. We’ve always known I make them worse.”

“...”

“I can make them go away, you know.”

“Yeah. But I don’t want you to. Not yet. I don’t want you to stop coming.”

“Shh.”

“See you soon?”

“Soon. Goodbye, ginger.”

* * *

“It’s time.”

“No, don’t. One more week. One night. Not yet. Please. Please.”

“Your headaches are getting worse.”

“I don’t...”

“I must...”

“Don't erase them...”

“...”

“Please don’t take them,” she begs. And I know I should, but the way she looks at me, I can’t bring myself to do it.

“What’s your name?” she asks. And for the first time, I’m tempted to reply with the truth. But that’s not how it works, and I know it. It’s my turn to ask, and I do.

“What’s your name?” I say. She smiles.

“I don’t want to forget,” she says. “I can live with the headaches. Don’t take them away. I don’t want to forget you.”

“I can’t come back. Not ever again.”

“I know. Kiss me.”

And I do.

* * *

I don’t expect to see her again but time travel is a bitch.

It’s the 51st century and she’s travelling with my Doctor.

Except that’s not my Doctor and neither of them seem to recognise me.

“You’re Donna. Donna Noble.”

“Yeah. Why?”

I finally understand. Doctor Donna. My mysterious ginger. I know all about Donna Noble, how could I never make the connection? The woman who had nightmares by my side and dreamt of the Doctor without knowing him. The woman who could not remember and couldn’t bear to forget.

“I do know the Doctor. But in the future. His personal future.”

“So why don’t you know me? Where am I in the future?” Donna asks.

 

Spoilers.

My impossible man and my ginger lover. And neither knows who I am.

Spoilers.

I’ve never hated a word so much.

Spoilers.

If I’m lucky, this might just kill me. 


End file.
